


The Nest

by Cantatrice18



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Gift Giving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:19:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9291989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: Bronwyn remembers sneaking into Miss Peregrine's room back at the house, and recalls seeing an enormous nest. Now, with the house destroyed and their new loop in place, the nest is a thing of the past. That is, unless Bronwyn uses her own peculiar set of talents to recreate it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on the movie canon only. I have not read the books, nor have I checked the wiki to see if anything in here goes against the book canon. This story was written on a transcontinental flight at about 35,000 feet, when the movie was the only thing interesting playing on JetBlue's in-flight programming. Internet was just not gonna happen. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the fluff.

Bronwyn saw more than the others gave her credit for. Despite her age, she could identify details better than any of her peers, better than most adults. Or perhaps it was simply that she bothered to look.

She noticed, aboard the decrepit luxury liner they now called home, that each child developed a different sleeping pattern. Some, like Enoch, slept soundly through the night in their shipboard cabins. Others, like Jake, would wake from time to time and pace the corridors, their footsteps thudding against the corroded metal walkways. And then there was her. Miss Peregrine. The very reason each child onboard was still alive, the reason they had not all fallen prey to the Hollows. Miss Peregrine did not sleep.

Yet it had not always been that way. Bronwyn remembered the night, early after entering the first loop, when she’d climbed the staircase in their Victorian mansion right up to the highest floor. The door to the tower room, Miss Peregrine’s room, had been ajar, and more from curiosity than anything else she’d peered through the crack in the door, not knowing what she might find within. 

One half of the room had been perfectly normal, with a petite vanity table and a writing desk in the corner. But the other half had been taken up by what appeared to be a giant bird’s nest, whole branches replacing the sticks and twigs of a normal bird’s home. Bronwyn’s feet had acted of their own accord, leading her from her hiding place at the door to the edge of the nest. Standing on tiptoe, she could just barely look in.

At the center of the nest, one graceful arm draped across her face to shield her from the light, lay Miss Peregrine. She was still fully clothed, though her shoes were nowhere to be seen. Blankets padded the inside walls of the nest, enough for her to rest against. Several stray blue-grey feathers were scattered about, some small, others nearly a foot long. 

Bronwyn had realized, at once, that Miss Peregrine had built the nest specially for herself. And it made sense that an Ymbryne would keep an aspect of the bird world close when sleeping. But now, with the house and all its contents destroyed, Miss Peregrine’s nest was a thing of the past. Bronwyn watched night after night as the barely-healed Ymbryne retreated to the Captain’s cabin, only to remain awake with the candles burning as the hours of night passed them by. She watched and she pondered, waiting for an answer to come to her. When it finally did, she could barely contain her excitement.

The next evening, rather than retreat to her own room the way she’d done every night since the ship had left port, she waited at the door to Miss Peregrine’s cabin. When Miss Peregrine caught sight of her, the Ymbryne frowned. “Bronwyn, you know better. You should have been in bed two minutes and sixteen seconds ago.”

Rather than answer, Bronwyn turned and twisted the handle of the cabin door, pushing it open. She waited until she heard the sound of a gasp before she turned back to look. Miss Peregrine was staring into the Captain’s cabin, her normally sharp eyes wide with amazement. She took a faltering step into the room and stopped, her watch dropping from her numb fingers to swing forlornly on its chain. “How did you—“

She took another step forward and reached out to touch the wall of curved metal that stood nearly four feet high. Bronwyn followed her in, inspecting her own handiwork. The nest was different, but then, there were no trees or plants aboard ship for her to work with. The metal she’d taken had mostly been from tables in the dining room, with a few extra beams thrown in for support. The overall effect was more like a woven basket than a nest, with bars of steel and iron dipping in and out of sight as the nest wall went along. Within the metal enclosure Bronwyn had piled dozens of pillows, sheets, blankets, and even tablecloths and flags, using most of the contents of the ship’s linen closet. The result was a whirlpool of white cloth with occasional pops of color from red napkins or blue pennants. Miss Peregrine reached out and took Bronwyn’s hand, her eyes still on the nest. “It’s marvelous.”

“Will it stay through the reset?” Bronwyn asked. She was pretty sure it would, but it never hurt to be certain.

Miss Peregrine nodded. “It will. It most certainly will.” Kneeling, she hugged the child, running a hand through her hair. “You are the most thoughtful girl I have ever met. Thank you.”

Bronwyn hugged her back, carefully so as not to hurt her. “I just wanted you to sleep. Do you think you can, now?”

“Most definitely.” Miss Peregrine’s smile was confident and assured. “I shall sleep, and so shall you. You’ve been out of bed for six minutes, fifty-one seconds longer than usual.”

Bronwyn smiled back, knowing how weak the rebuke was. “Good night, then,” she said brightly.

Miss Peregrine kissed her forehead and ushered her towards the door.

The next morning, or rather the same morning, Bronwyn woke up earlier than usual. Leaping out of bed, she raced down the hallways, skidding to a halt outside the Captain’s cabin. Hardly daring to breathe, she opened the door and sidled into the room, standing on tiptoe to see over the edge of the new nest just as she’d done so long ago. 

There, in the center of the tangled blankets, lay Miss Peregrine, her red lips curved into a gentle smile as she slept.


End file.
